


Dinnertime Confessions

by justcallmecappy



Category: GreedFall (Video Game)
Genre: Comedy, Cute romantic fluff, Drinking Games, Drunken Confessions, F/M, Female De Sardet - Freeform, Gen, Platonic Constantin/de Sardet, Romance, everyone gets drunk, spoiler-free
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:09:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24608944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justcallmecappy/pseuds/justcallmecappy
Summary: A dinner party at the Governor's mansion in New Serene. Expensive wine flowing like water. And Constantin wants to play drinking games. What could possibly go wrong?
Relationships: Constantin d'Orsay & De Sardet, Kurt/De Sardet (GreedFall)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 44





	Dinnertime Confessions

One particular day in New Serene, for some reason or the other, Constantin announced he was hosting a celebratory dinner at the Governor’s Palace.

“But what are we celebrating?” de Sardet asked.

“Why, a bright new future for Teer Fradee, of course!” Constantin replied with glowing enthusiasm. “It is to be a splendid feast to usher in a new age for this island. Naturally, all your fine new friends are invited. I won’t accept no for an answer!”

De Sardet knew this was just another one of Constantin’s whims to avoid the staggering boredom he’d been complaining about since they arrived on the island, but it was a welcome distraction, and so she humoured him.

Invitations were sent out. Candles were ordered from San Matheus, and silk drapery from Hikmet. Silverware was polished, wine brought forth from the cellars.

And finally, the night of the dinner arrived. The kitchens were absolutely bustling with activity. The palace staff were dressed in their finest pressed linens, and the banqueting hall was glittering with the light of the brilliant chandeliers overhead. Dishes of roast pheasant, suckling pig and candied pears were carried in on silver platters to the dining guests, washed down with the most expensive wines imported from the Continent.

Constantin sat at the head of the table, with de Sardet on his right, and Sir de Courcillon to his left. De Courcillion’s immediate neighbour was Lady de Morange, followed by Vasco, Petrus and Aphra. Next to de Sardet on the opposite side of the table sat Admiral Cabral, Siora, and Kurt, while further down the long banquet table were members of the lesser noble merchant families, and court officials. Everyone was engaged in conversation with their fellow guests, and the hall was filled with the pleasant hubbub of voices mingling with the sound of clinking silverware, hurried footsteps as servants rushed back and forth from the kitchens, and the delicate music being played by a quartet of musicians at the end of the hall.

As the evening wore on, and the wine continued to flow, spirits rose high and the conversations took a more robust turn.

“Well, my friends,” Constantin said, with a touch of red already in his cheeks, “I would like to propose a game. I call it, ‘The Confession Game’. It’s tremendous fun! I shall describe to you a scenario, and if you have experienced said scenario, you _must_ take a drink.” He looked around at his nearby companions, his grin growing wider. “Shall we?”

This was met with mixed enthusiasm – some were amused, some nervous. Sir de Courcillon sighed, looking daunted, because he knew his student well enough to know where this was going, and tried to think of a polite reason to excuse himself. De Sardet looked bemused, knowing this was just Constantin’s way to get really, really drunk. Petrus’ smile looked like he was hiding some great emotion behind it, while Kurt silently wondered how many more swigs of wine he could take before he wouldn’t be able to walk straight.

But the others glanced at each other and grinned, and called for their wine cups to be refilled.

“Let’s begin,” Constantin said. “Have a drink, if –” he paused for dramatic effect, “you have ever been kicked out of an establishment.”

A flicker of moment passed before both Vasco and Constantin raised their glasses to their lips.

“Aha, Vasco, you scoundrel! I knew it!” Constantin laughed. “Do tell us!”

Vasco grinned, shook his head slightly and said, “’Twas long before I became Captain. A friend of mine was celebrating his promotion to First Mate, and there was a _lot_ of drinking. Things got heated, we got into a fight, and were promptly told to leave the premises.”

Admiral Cabral smirked at this. “If I recall correctly, you broke a man’s nose and were tossed out into the gutter by the seat of your trousers.”

Vasco laughed. “Ah, good times!” He raised his glass to Constantin, “And if I’m not mistaken, you were in a similar situation not too long ago?”

“Yes, you do recall the day we left the port of Serene. I was unfortunately in a rather desperate scrape that morning, but _luckily_ ,” he leaned towards de Sardet, “my brave cousin came to my rescue.”

De Sardet shook her head, smiling at the memory. “Something tells me that won’t be the last time.”

“Right then, next one!” Constantin declared, clapping his hands together, “have a drink if … you have ever had romantic feelings for someone you shouldn’t have.”

There was a weighted pause at the table, before Petrus raised his glass to his lips, followed by Kurt, Siora, and de Sardet. There was a moment as everyone regarded this.

“Ooh, where to begin,” Constantin said, rubbing his hands together. “Siora? I sense there’s a story behind this.”

Siora looked self-conscious. “There was … a Storm Warrior, from Vedlug,” she said, with a small sigh. “This was when I was still training to be a _doneigad_. But she was older than me, and already promised to another. It was a very long time ago.”

“Ah, the trials and tribulations of young love,” Constantin said, nodding graciously. “And Father Petrus? Anything you should be telling us?”

“All shall be clear in due time, my child,” Petrus said, his smile pleasant, but guarded and distant.

“Ah, but what’s this, dear cousin? Feelings for another you shouldn’t have, _hmm?”_

De Sardet smiled sweetly at her cousin, her expression betraying nothing. “This is not how the game is played, Constantin. The drink is already my confession. I will say no more.”

“Oh, come now!” Constantin goaded, impatiently drumming his hands on the table. “This is your only chance to get things off your chest! Live a life free of inhibitions! How about you, Kurt? You took a drink just now, didn’t you?”

Kurt shook his head. “Like Green Blood said: A drink equals a confession. Try again, your Excellency.”

Constantin pouted for a bit, but wasn’t perturbed. He looked around at his dinner guests. “Hmm. Alright, then: Drink if you … have ever broken off an engagement!”

A beat passed, and then Aphra and Constantin took a gulp of wine.

Constantin barked out a laugh. “Aphra, I’m surprised – you’ve been engaged?”

Aphra looked unconcerned. “My parents tried to arrange a marriage for me once, to an astronomer from a respectable family. I think they hoped I would settle down close to home.” She shrugged. “But in the end, I convinced them to abandon the idea, and went on to continue my studies in Al Saad. And now here I am, in Teer Fradee.”

Lady de Morange nodded approvingly. “A lady should always see to her education,” she commented, to which Aphra beamed – but Constantin was already using the opportunity to tell his guests his own story: “Well! We seem to have that in common, Aphra – I can proudly say I’ve successfully thwarted _every_ single one of my parents’ plots to have me married off.” He looked pleased with himself. “Baron’s daughter? Foreign princess? I’ve found a way to escape them _all,_ and my parents had to resort to different ways to advance their political machinations.”

They played a few more rounds, the questions ranging from the ridiculous ( _“Drink if you have ever cheated at cards,”_ ) to the scandalous ( _“Drink if you have ever harboured a secret from your family”_ ).

But Constantin – his face now a livelier shade of red, and his speech more than just slightly slurred – leaned forward with his elbow propped on the table and declared, “Time for the final round. I saved the best for last! Have a drink if you …” his gaze swept across his dinner guests, a devilish grin on his lips, “have a drink if you are harbouring secret romantic feelings for someone sitting at this table _right now_.”

This was followed by a lengthy, weighted pause. Only the murmurs of conversation from the further end of the table broke the silence, and nobody moved as they thoughtfully regarded their wine cups.

Then Sir de Courcillon, his face a picture of absolute graciousness, took a drink. Almost at the same time, Lady de Morange’s face flushed pink and she, too, took a sip from her cup.

This was met with raucous cheers from rest of the companions – so loud and enthusiastic the other dinner guests, and even the servants, turned to look in surprise.

Lady de Morange was hiding her face behind her fan and seemed to be shaking in silent laughter, while Sir de Courcillon threw a scandalized look at his former student, shaking his head disapprovingly but he, too, was smiling.

Constantin clapped his hands. “Oh, what fun, what fun!” he said as he laughed delightedly, “am I to be officiating a wedding soon?”

But de Sardet (struggling to hold back her own mirth), punched Constantin good-naturedly on his arm, signalling him to stop his teasing.

“Shouldn’t _you_ be taking a drink too, cousin?” Constantin declared boldly, changing targets.

Everyone stared at de Sardet, as she met his gaze coolly. “Still trying to fish a scandal out of me? Oh, very well, then.” She raised her cup to her lips and took a delicate sip. “ _There’s_ your confession. Make of that what you will.”

There was a tense moment as everyone regarded this revelation, their eyes darting to one another.

“Oh, my goodness,” Aphra gasped suddenly, as if uncovering some huge scandal or solving some great mystery. Her eyes were bright, and she was more than just a little giddy – drink made her excitable. She leaned forward, and in a loud whisper, she said, “Is it Constantin? It’s Constantin, isn’t it? Ooh I guessed it!”

At this, both Constantin and de Sardet laughed. “My cousin is _very_ dear to me, but not in that way,” de Sardet admitted. “But I don’t blame you, Aphra – this isn’t the first time we gave off that impression.” She turned to look at Constantin. “Remember Lady Isabelle, from my finishing school? She was _so_ mean to me and bullied me mercilessly – I thought she just didn’t like me, but I realized much later on it was because she was obscenely jealous of how close we were.”

Constantin made a face. “Oh yes, I remember – to be honest, you were _far_ too gracious with her, fair cousin.” He leaned closer to de Sardet, grinning. “But that’s not the _only_ thing I remember from our childhood.”

De Sardet rolled her eyes, unruffled. “I’m not drinking any more, Constantin.”

“You don’t have to!” Constantin said smugly, leaning back. “Because I know!”

“Oh?” de Sardet raised a challenging eyebrow. “Know what?”

“Wasn’t it when we were sixteen? Springtime that year. We were supposed to have combat training that day, but we skipped it to go swimming in the creek near the palace.”

The smile faded from de Sardet’s face.

“And wasn’t it later that evening after supper, in a quiet moment just before bedtime, that you took me aside … your face all aglow like a maiden in love … and confided in me that you’ve developed feelings for our dear old Ku—”

De Sardet leapt forward, and it would almost have looked like an assault if she didn’t immediately clamp her hands over Constantin’s mouth to silence him.

This was met with a moment of shock – de Sardet, always a paragon of self-control, looked flustered and panicked. Her eyes had snapped wide, her jaw clenched, her brow knotted in a look of silent pleading. Never had anyone seen de Sardet – the accomplished diplomat, always so cool and collected – lose her composure so suddenly or completely.

“Constantin,” de Sardet hissed desperately, “one more word out of you, and I shall not speak to you ever again.”

Constantin knew he had overstepped some invisible boundary. He nodded silently, and de Sardet slowly lifted her hands.

Her face was a brilliant shade of crimson, and it seemed from more than just the wine. She took a moment to compose herself, before announcing abruptly, “I – I think I’ve had too much excitement for one evening. My friends, please excuse me.” She rose from the table and brusquely left the banquet hall, not daring to meet the eyes of her companions.

They watched her leave. And then, almost like clockwork – in a moment of unspoken, mutual, dawning realization – their gazes turned slowly towards Kurt.

He had his face cupped in his hands, completely hiding his expression. But his ears were bright red. And that – coupled with Constantin’s sheepish but knowing grin – was more telling than any drinking game could ever reveal.


End file.
